


an unconventional crossing

by Ominous



Series: progress comes in small steps [8]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Difficult discussions, Fluff, Multi, Wholesome Twinyards, aaron is awkward but what else is new, anyways the usual, discussions about past abuse and addiction, had to say it again, katelyn and neil arent actually here but the twins are so whipped they're mentioned so dang much, the twins are whipped, they need to be tagged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25957420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ominous/pseuds/Ominous
Summary: Aaron likes to believe he and Andrew have a lot more practice navigating their conversations now. And he’s right, mostly. But sometimes, challenges arise at the strangest times, and especially when their significant others are concerned.In which Andrew and Aaron run into each other at the grocery store, and choose not to part ways.
Relationships: Aaron Minyard & Andrew Minyard, Katelyn/Aaron Minyard, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: progress comes in small steps [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593232
Comments: 100
Kudos: 563





	an unconventional crossing

**Author's Note:**

> Helllooo, I'll start off by apologizing bc this fic was largely unplanned and probably nonsensical as a result, but I was really vibing with it when I wrote it so *shrugs* I offer it to you ; ; I just wanted some more twin bonding, it's what makes me happiest <3
> 
> Big thanks to [nightquills](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightquills/pseuds/nightquills) for reading this over! She is my savior

Aaron is only a little bit ashamed that his first instinct is to run far away when he turns the corner and sees his brother standing there.

At first, he thinks he might be dreaming. It's past nine on a school night, and the brightness of the store burns his already tired eyes. The switch from the darkness outside to the stark white tile and fluorescent lights makes Aaron squint. His brother is more like a grainy, black smudge in front of him, and Aaron lingers on the double knots of Andrew's combat boots and the shiny item in his hand. Soup. A can of soup. That's also what Aaron needs.

For Katelyn.

And like that, Aaron remembers why he's here. In fact, he's pretty sure there's dried snot on his sleeve where Katelyn mistook him for a tissue. It's disgusting, but given the bookstore fiasco of last year—which Aaron has repressed and will take to the grave—it's not the grossest thing they've witnessed from one another.

In sickness and in health and all that...he guesses it still applies to boyfriend and girlfriend, too.

It's why he's here now, prepared to stock up their mediocre medical supplies. It does _not_ explain why Andrew is here. He looks around a few times, then looks back, and expects to be alone in the aisle. But Andrew is still there. Holding soup.

The grocery store is practically empty apart from a few people picking up alcohol or extra junk food for studying binges, which only adds to the dream-like quality of it all. This is...not where he's used to seeing Andrew—this is not _how_ he's used to seeing Andrew. Which is nonsensical, because everyone needs groceries.

He kinda just figured Andrew survived off chocolate.

He clamps down on the urge to leave; it's an old, pathetic need, and one he no longer wants to encourage. He freezes in place instead, and reflects. _Classic_ , he thinks, rolling his eyes. Aaron hates how much he listens to Bee now, but with all the leaps and bounds he and Andrew have made, random things can still be hard to navigate.

Grocery store trips, he guesses, are included in that.

The habit of bolting whenever his brother is in the same room as him is not one he likes, but it's a knee jerk reaction he hasn't completely gotten rid of. A ghost, latched onto his back. But that's okay, because he's sure it's the same for Andrew too. The need to keep Aaron at a distance, when they've been doing the exact opposite.

He spends a lot of time with Andrew now, more than he'd probably admit if asked. They study together, silently—that hasn’t changed. But even now there's an occasional greeting or a mutual scoff when someone in the library is being annoying. Andrew will help Aaron review his exam flashcards, or Aaron will form a post with his hands so Andrew can flick paper goals. They play videogames with Neil and Katelyn, they have lunch together… Their sessions no longer feel like a chore.

Standing in this soup aisle, Aaron realizes he couldn't have asked for more, would've never asked for even a fraction of it a few years ago. Now he can't imagine his life without Andrew slotting into it somewhere, whether it be on miniature golf double dates or Nicky's failed family baking nights.

It's startling, but not unwelcome.

Still, it's odd to see his brother looking so...normal. Silly.

Aaron is aware now that Andrew is a regular person with fears and wants, just with unorthodox methods, different roots...but he can't help but always think of the cool, blank stare. He thinks of Andrew leaning against a wall, smoking, not giving anyone the time of day. Including Aaron.

Especially Aaron.

It takes him a second to remember the nerd who sulked after getting beaten in Mario Kart, or the one who apparently threw up after Disneyland from one too many churros.

(Neil told them that story).

He certainly doesn't think of the man who walked all the way back to the dorm because Neil sent him a crying emoji and a 'I cut my finger' text.

But that's the real Andrew, too. There’s always more underneath all the closed off, reserved portions laced with barbed wire. Andrew has finally allowed Aaron to see that.

This Andrew is, once again, a far cry from cool and collected. This Andrew looks tired, not as put together. He's wearing wrinkled jeans that clearly need a wash, Neil's hoodie (stained), and seems .2 seconds away from throwing the store's entire inventory into a dumpster fire.

The spell is only slightly broken, and Aaron catches himself smirking.

His brother glares at the can of soup like it offends him, reading the label before putting it back on the shelf and grabbing a different brand to see if it's anywhere closer to his standards. Whatever the hell those might be.

Unfortunately, dating Neil has made his brother even more perceptive than before. Probably because Neil can smell trouble from miles away, and then he goes and seeks out said trouble to jab at it with a metaphorical stick. The stick is just an endless stream of cuss words and insults.

Needless to say, Aaron isn't able to enjoy this comical sight for long.

Andrew's gaze darts over to where Aaron is standing at the end of the aisle, and Aaron can see the exact same reaction run through him. The tension seizes his brother like a snare, and there's that all too familiar step forward, like Andrew is ready to turn around and disappear.

But then he doesn't. Andrew remembers what Aaron does, and then it's gone.

What they didn't account for was the awkwardness. Again, they aren't trained for grocery store encounters.

Andrew doesn't exactly _nod_ at Aaron, but he inclines his head just so and turns back to the soup, staring into some void Aaron can't see. He's not sure if it's an invitation, but it's as good as he's going to get.

Aaron's sneakers squeak on the tile and he stumbles, but ultimately ends up at the edge of his brother's bubble, staring at the soup right along with him.

Progress.

Aaron sighs and grabs Katelyn's preferred brand. It's the chicken soup with the extra big chunks of chicken and the flatter noodles. Katelyn likes them because they're 'chewier,' and Aaron just thinks it's weird. But what she wants, she gets, because how is he going to deny his sniffling girlfriend as she whines miserably in bed?

Come to think of it, they're probably here for the same reason. With how much Neil and Katelyn see each other outside of games and general Fox gatherings, it would be no surprise if they both came down with the same cold.

Which means they probably need the same things. Soup, cold medicine, tissues.

Aaron freezes as he glances at the soup, feeling his brother's imposing presence beside him. For someone so obsessed with not being noticed or talked to, Andrew doesn't do a good job of hiding. He's like a cliff or a mountain, steady and bulky. A road block.

Aaron should leave. He has what he needs, so he can move on. He doesn't have to wait for Andrew; they don't _have_ to shop together.

But then why does it feel so weird to weakly wave goodbye?

Aaron raises his hand only to stop mid-motion, thwarted by his own thoughts. Andrew tracks the movement. God, this is even more awkward now. They aren't usually like this anymore.

Maybe it's because they've realized the same thing.

Here they are, both making sweetheart runs in the middle of the night. It should be mortifying, but part of it feels strangely natural.

Probably because there's always a comfort in knowing they're the same in this way.

They both have their suffering partners waiting for them, but despite that, Aaron doesn't know how to broach the subject.

Bee's words from some faraway session echo in his head: _"It might help the both of you to try talking about your partners with one another under more casual circumstances."_

Aaron nearly scoffs, just like he did then.

Yeah, sure. It's the one area they're not great at, and it’s easier said than done.

It's not that he hates Neil anymore, and he has his suspicions that Andrew's opinion of Katelyn is at least a calm respect, though he's not sure when or how it happened. They spend time together as a group, and, in some cases, separately.

Aaron will tutor Neil or help him through difficult game levels, or Katelyn will be the one to help Andrew with the snack runs when they go to the movies. It's...fine.

No, it's great.

Aaron just still has a hard time acknowledging it.

But this? This they don't do. They don't talk about Neil and Katelyn together unless it's for therapeutic purposes during their sessions, and even then it's caked in wariness.

Aaron wonders if they're afraid of ruining the progress they've made by unintentionally starting a fight, but he's never known Andrew to be that caring of those things.

Perhaps it's simply too vulnerable, too exposed, to show how much they care. Even when it's so obvious.

Aaron notices Andrew finally settles on one of the more premium soup brands, and yeah, alright. Painfully obvious.

Aaron has always pushed that piece of Bee's advice away, procrastinating, because surely it can't be that important. But it is.

Ugh. It probably _is_.

So this time, rather than avoiding it, Aaron figures he might as well show Andrew up by taking the first stride. Talking about Katelyn is easy. She's everything to him; he could wax poetic all day about her. He knows her class schedule, her favorite subjects, her dreams.

With that in mind, Aaron confidently spins the can around at the same time he opens his mouth in Andrew's direction, and smoothly says, "You know, Katelyn likes soup."

And what a stride he takes.

_Fuck me._

“Uh. When she’s sick, I mean. And other times but—that’s why I’m here. Sick soup.” The can falls from his hands and he barely catches it in time. He doesn't think he could add that to his mortification without giving up and running out.

It wasn't a _lie_. She does like soup, even if it's the really disgusting kind, but it's not a fact that evokes any groundbreaking emotions. It certainly doesn't bridge the gap.

Andrew turns to squint at him in that _way_ —the precursor to a full on dismissal. Aaron's not sure why he's even still _here_ , but maybe now his respect for Aaron now extends to telling him off with words. Aaron braces for it.

He watches the exact moment Andrew opens his mouth to tell Aaron he doesn't care, but it never comes. It's rare to see Andrew hesitate; someone so methodical and cautious doesn't tend to question his thoughts when he's sure of them.

But Andrew stops, mouth hanging open for a beat too long before snapping shut.

And Aaron doesn't know what it is, doesn't feel like blaming it on the twin telepathy theory...

He just knows Andrew remembers, same as him. Probably _better_ than him.

Andrew can hear Bee's advice too, far away and obnoxious, ringing in his head.

His brother turns back to the soup can, smoothly over the ridges under the bright blue label. Hm. No, can't be. His brother isn't that sappy.

A few moments pass where Aaron can't move, kept in place by some invisible orbit, waiting for...something. Just that alone makes it all so surreal; he never used to expect anything from Andrew.

Yet, Andrew keeps surprising him with how much more he's willing to do now. For Aaron. For both of them. His brother sighs eventually, staring at the shelf in front of him, and begrudgingly replies, "Neil won't even admit he's sick. He didn't want me to come."

It's stilted, clearly forced out, but Andrew did it. He returned the gesture. And if there's one thing Aaron knows about his brother, it's that it's the closest thing he's going to get to a chance. Excited for some inane reason, Aaron almost doesn't process the words. But oh, he gets it. Neil is so fucking ridiculous, Aaron can't stand him. It makes sense his 'I'm fine' routine would stretch to this, too. Aaron almost wants to see the state of him, fever high and unable to move without his sweat sticking to the blankets.

His face sours, and the instinctive insult creeps to the edges of his mouth. Andrew watches, waits for it, and Aaron nearly bites his tongue to stop himself. Being hostile to Neil is more playful nowadays, but it's still a reflex. If he does that here...part of him just knows whatever is happening will effectively be cut short.

He clears his throat, rocking on the balls of his feet and willing his glare to go away.

"That...sounds like him," Aaron forces out. It's the best he can do, but it probably still sounds judgmental.

God.

Why are they so bad at this?

"He's an idiot," Andrew replies with a nod, so softly it almost doesn't sound like him. Aaron almost scoffs. Here he is trying to be considerate, but Andrew scolds his own boyfriend anyways. Aaron should've known better than to bother.

He slides his gaze over to his brother again, and that train of thought effectively stops. There's a tightness in Andrew's jaw, and an antsy quality to his stance. Aaron replays the words, and realizes Andrew's voice is different from the usual monotone, the uncaring inflection. It would be neutral still, to most people, but Aaron can sense that it's laced with something strong, self-directed. His brother's hands tighten around the can with a vice grip, and Aaron should really be better at detecting Andrew's concern by now.

Suddenly, he gets it. _"He didn't want me to come."_

It must be grating for someone like Andrew, who despite the vibe he tries to give off, does nothing but look after his own. It's the worst with Neil, because his motivation is borne from an intense emotion Aaron can't even associate with their relationship. It's too much, too _theirs_. He feels uncomfortable trying to define it when he's never heard Andrew actually _say_ the three words.

Still, it's all consuming. It's real.

Nauseatingly so.

And it must be particularly infuriating, because Andrew's need to protect Neil isn't the result of a deal at all. He wants to. Wow, he probably _hates_ that he wants to.

It only gives Aaron some satisfaction; it is _Neil_ they're talking about.

Andrew's frustrations bleed through the cracks a little more, and he harshly brushes a hand through his bedhead. "His cold is just going to get worse if he keeps it up."

Ah, so they're still sharing. Aaron can do that. It's a welcome distraction; he can only take so much of thinking about his brother's intimate relationship with the most infuriating person on the planet.

Aaron looks down at the tile, lining his feet up with the edge of the blocks as if he's walking a tightrope. "Katelyn tried to go to class this morning. She didn't want to miss her lecture," he says, and tries to act like it's no big deal. He sways a little, and swallows the lump in his throat, because these are not things he gives away to anyone. It's just as exposing; as soon as he'd found out, he'd walked her back to her dorm and helped her change into pajamas. She passed out almost instantly, her fever spiking. Too much care, too much worry. Aaron had paced the floor a good twenty minutes, debating an urgent care visit.

He's just as pathetic as Andrew, but he wouldn't dare stop if it means looking after Katelyn. He bites his lips and shrugs, as if it's not as emotionally revealing as it is. It probably doesn't work. "I was so mad. Uh, you know how it is."

No kidding—they both just accidentally revealed it. Aaron never thought 'hopelessly enamored' would ever be associated with his own feelings, much less Andrew's.

But there's really no other explanation with that one.

"Oh?" Andrew tilts his head, as if daring Aaron to continue. It's dangerous territory, but that's what they deserve for addressing an old therapy issue in the middle of a grocery store. They might know their feelings are the same, but verbally acknowledging how is a different matter.

So continue, Aaron does. Neither of them are getting out of this one.

Won't Bee be proud?

Petulantly, Aaron glares, and loses his balance on the wire. He promptly spirals down. "Yeah, well… You want to take care of Neil too, right?"

It's a dare, a provocation. It's also ill-advised, but he can't be more mature in every way. There's no way Andrew can refute it and have Aaron believe him. He's been trapped into the truth.

Andrew tenses and glares back, expressive for how much he tries not to be. Aaron is more used to that now too. On the subject of his striker, his brother can't keep up the expression. It melts back into a reluctant calm, and his sigh is relenting.

Right.

A store intercom rings above them, something about how they _really_ need someone up on registers. It's grounding in a way; Aaron grabs a few more cans and stubbornly throws them into the basket by Andrew's feet.

They're in too deep at this point. This is now a joint trip, as painful as it may be. Andrew looks down at the basket, which as of now holds both their soup choices and a candy bar Andrew must've snagged along the way.

Andrew squints, looking back up at Aaron, and surprise, surprise...

"I need the extra strength cough syrup."

He avoids answering altogether.

Aaron sighs; he saw that coming, but Andrew's trapped himself unknowingly.

"That's more expensive, you know," Aaron says, a playful lilt to his tone.

Andrew glares, but he must admire Aaron somewhat for the payback, because he finally admits: "It's better for him, it's also the only one with the flavor he tolerates," Andrew grits out, and no amount of bravado can make that sound anything less than....oh, completely fucking whipped.

So, Andrew gives some more as a war prize. "I need the tissues with the lotion too."

Aaron suppresses his snort (also, for real, those can't be necessary), and dutifully leads them to the next aisle.

\--

Andrew ends up convincing him that the lotion tissues are superior, so one point for him or whatever.

They still don't know how to do this, and they don't get a lot better at it over the course of the following forty-five minutes, but they continue dropping the most mundane facts in hopes it doesn't give too much away.

But it always does.

Andrew makes a sharp turn with the sole intention of making the basket stab Aaron in the knee, and Aaron kicks it in return. Then he realizes where they are, and the words pour like shots.

He wonders if it's a consequence of therapy, that he ends up flaying himself open for Andrew in the hopes that he'll be given honesty in return. He's learned that lately, it's more effective than he once thought.

"Katelyn...hasn't been drinking much lately," he starts slowly when they pass through the alcohol aisle. It's a far cry from the boring 'favorite color' facts he's been trading thus far, but it hits him like a blow. It's not that it hasn't been on his mind, he just hasn't had a chance to talk it out because...

Part of him kind of doesn't want to. The person he talks to is Katelyn, and he's not quite ready for this discussion.

But tonight's that kind of night.

The aisle is a shortcut, nothing more than a connector to the medicines on the far side, but Aaron falters. The brands and bottles all stir up confusing memories for him, some fun, some not so much. The colored glass warps his expression like liquor warps his mind, and his body is already swimming through molasses to keep up.

Mixing drinks with what he used to do was never smart, and Aaron's thankful he's where he is now. He's not so reckless, but he indulges from time to time. Katelyn used to also, but lately she's been finding more reasons not to. And that's okay. He's never pushed or questioned it, but he can't help but wonder. He pauses in front of the daiquiri mixes. Katelyn's favorite.

The action makes Andrew wait for him, regarding him from the end of the aisle for a long moment. Then, in another act that shouldn't surprise Aaron but does, Andrew comes back for him.

Aaron's closed throat feels less tight. What did he call Andrew earlier? A road block. No, maybe he's more like...a steel beam, every once in a while. Supportive, but it could crush him in an instant. It's not Andrew's intent, but he'll take it. "I know she's never been a drinker, but part of me thinks it's because she worries about me."

And there it is.

He's aware he should be angry, just a little. But he can't be, because the worry and judgment come from a place of honesty, commitment. Aaron won't say he hasn't had the same fear—the fear of falling back down a different hole of addiction. He's better now, more responsible. He couldn't imagine ruining their lives like that, but he and Katelyn are pragmatic people. He knows it's hard to keep control in those circumstances, to rise above once he's caught in the trap. It wouldn't be all his fault, but he's susceptible and they both know it. She would stand by him as much as she could, but Aaron's honestly not sure if he would want her to if it ever came down to that.

That's not fair, and that's why he's determined to not let it happen.

Katelyn's precaution, intentional or subconscious, is just her protecting him in return. It's what they need to work on, what they need to talk about, before it's twisted into a misunderstanding.

But revisiting old wounds is not what Aaron is good at. At least, not right away.

He's not expecting Andrew to say anything; it's not his business and his black and white worldview probably prevents him from seeing it that way. In his mind, Katelyn is in the wrong and that's all that matters.. If anything, Aaron expects that statement, but then—

"She shouldn't," Andrew says, nearly admonishing. Aaron's gaze snaps up, and Andrew glares at the bottles in front of him to avoid meeting his eyes. He'd usually grab that particular brand of whiskey, but today he doesn't. Then, after a moment: "Knowing her obnoxious levels of optimism, she's probably trying not to. But that's her problem."

Andrew’s words are strained, but no less meaningful. He doesn't do comfort, and that's not what this is. Aaron knows a few things in that moment; the first is that Andrew definitely does not agree with Katelyn. That's fine. He never asks his brother to understand everything about his relationship anymore. Aaron certainly doesn't understand parts of Andrew's. The second thing, arguably the aspect he cares about more, is that Andrew clearly knows something Aaron does not.

Andrew isn’t offering a pat on the back, only what he knows to be factual.

He feels involuntarily exposed this time, and forgets that sometimes it's simply the way it has to be to move forward. Aaron nearly growls. "How—"

But Andrew simply sends him a look that reads _don't ask_. Aaron should know the answer.

Neil.

It's been a while since Aaron has felt a sharp slap of disdain for the redhead, but it shoots through him in the moment before fizzling out. Of course. Why wouldn't Neil know? Why wouldn’t Neil confide in Andrew about it?

Aaron always liked to think it was a shared strength, that he and Andrew could trust their partners so completely, give or take some setbacks. But it seems this time he's the one lagging behind.

He glares at the floor. He doesn't know how to feel. Why Neil possibly knows about this issue before he gets to address it himself is something he wants to feel rage over, but he just can't. It's not like confronting Neil at the cabin or in the dorm hall. He doesn't have the energy, and he knows he doesn't want to.

It's not...like that anymore.

Just knowing Katelyn has someone to talk to is enough, because that only means eventually, she'll talk to him too. And can he blame her? Here he is, telling Andrew.

Andrew, who feels as much sympathy as a log on most days, is still trying his best to give Aaron the truth.

Leave it to Andrew to rip off the bandaid, and Aaron feels the sting. But he needed it. It's the only thing that reminds him it'll eventually be okay.

It's quiet for a few moments as Andrew looks back at the bottles, tracing the curvy scripts. There's a steadily building tension in his frame; at first, Aaron thinks it's repressed hostility towards Katelyn, but far from it.

Andrew's struggle to give in the same way is all too apparent in his words.

"Neil and I drink sometimes, just when we're together," Andrew forces out evenly. He reaches out to spin one of the security tags on a particularly large bottle of vodka, tracing the ears of the rabbit logo afterwards. Aaron flinches a little; he didn't know that. His brain catches up just enough, letting him know that Andrew is giving this to him in return for his own vulnerability, so he should at least listen. Flexing his jaw, Andrew's tone loses some of the smoothness. "Last time...something happened. With me. He's been hesitant ever since."

It sounds like Andrew is chewing glass, and Aaron knows better than to ask for an elaboration on the ‘ _what’_ that happened. Hell, Andrew exposing the reason for his and Neil's weekend getaways is most likely more than Andrew wanted to share in the first place.

Andrew won't answer anything Aaron asks, but he reads into it enough. "You miss it," he says, and again it feels like they're on a level playing field.

Andrew glares his usual 'I don't miss anything' glare, but doesn't actually say the words. Instead, he turns back in the direction of the medicine aisle, and throws the words over his shoulder.

"I hate losing control," he states. "Neil is a reason I hate it less."

Translation: _Yes, I miss it. But Neil is just as stupidly worried as Katelyn._

It goes unsaid that they ended up with worry warts for partners. Aaron gives up trying to analyze anymore; there are things about his brother and Neil that are impossible to grasp. But Aaron is learning more and more that their relationship has similar flaws to his own, that they have their own challenges to wade through.

And if one of them can manage, so can the other.

Aaron walks away from the aisle feeling less stuck—the quicksand around his ankles turns to water, easy to wade through.

He's not sure how many more of those confessions he's going to get, but he won't take them for granted.

Later, when they're passing through the candy section for Andrew's stockpile, the facts turn lighter. "Katelyn only eats the red starbursts, it's cute," he says, unable to hide his dreamy smile as he throws the red starbursts pack into the basket. She won't be able to taste them yet, but whatever, it'll be a welcome reward in a few days when her sniffles are gone.

Instead of the apathy and dismissiveness, Andrew holds the gummy bears in his hand at arm's length. Like they offend him. Aaron was wondering why he's even considering them. They're not even close to Andrew's usual brand of cavity inducers.

"Neil never finishes his gummy bears," Andrew says, and seethes a little over the word 'his.' Of course, it's Neil's fault that Andrew has to spend money on the bland treats Neil doesn’t even love. But Andrew puts them in the basket anyways. "Last time he was bored, so we built a fake set for them."

Aaron blinks, following after Andrew towards the registers. "Like...for a play?"

"It helped him study for his lit exam."

Somehow, it's impossible for his brain to conjure up an image of Andrew building a gummy bear Shakespeare set, but he supposes weirder things have happened. He wonders if Andrew indulges Neil by doing voices, or if he recites the lines in his normal dull monotone.

Aaron hides a smirk at the thought. "Nerds."

He takes them back to the medicine aisle last minute due to the guilt tripping from Andrew for buying the cheaper brand of cough syrup, and figures he might as well stock up on bandages too. Exy is a violent sport, and he's not quite sure why he plays it.

"Bandages are over there," Andrew says, pointing deliberately at where Aaron is clearly already looking. Dick. "Don't buy the cheap brand, they gave Neil a rash."

Aaron scoffs. "Guess you would know best, with how much your boy gets scraped up," he says, but he still listens. Once more, he notes that Andrew's suggestion is several dollars more. He really does spare no expense on anything, especially for his boy toy—boyfriend. Boyfriend.

"He's never as bad as the other person," Andrew remarks offhandedly, but Aaron gets stuck on the comment. Before, he used to not pay attention to anything Andrew said that didn't make sense to him, writing it off as unimportant. It's amazing what he can pick out now that he actually processes the words. In this case, it's thinly veiled praise for his violence-prone boyfriend.

Aaron's no idiot; Neil has to at least be somewhat capable at throwing a punch, and who knows what else.

It's appealing, watching someone you love trade blows. Aaron himself never fails to feel a rush of adrenaline and adoration when Katelyn rushes to his defense.

It would make sense for Andrew to enjoy watching Neil be his typical chaotic self. But for whatever reason, that logic doesn't compute with what he knows about Andrew's protective streak—especially where Neil is concerned.

And since he doesn't know how to put that all into words, he says: "I don't know how you don't kill anything that tries to touch him."

That's how he thought it worked, how he's _seen_ it work. So why all the fuss about letting Neil fight his own battles, when it's clear it eats at Andrew like a vulture picking at his intestines?

Andrew regards him slowly, looking at him like he's grown two heads. Right, because Aaron is supposed to be able to parse through all their weird layers. He rolls his eyes.

"I will when he asks," Andrew responds calmly, and before Aaron can open his mouth he holds up a hand. "And he _does._ "

Again, a warning laces his tone: _don't ask_.

Aaron huffs. Fine. He guesses he'll believe it for now. Come to think of it, he's been seeing less and less of Neil's insistence to handle shit on his own. Just the other week, he seemed to give up too easily when arguing with a jock from another team, and Andrew had stepped in a moment later.

He had thought Neil looked a little too happy about that.

Tracking him still, Andrew shrugs in such a careless way that he'd think Neil had taken over his body. "I know he doesn't need it. And yes, it's annoying."

Aaron's not so sure. It's scary how Andrew can read his mind sometimes, can connect the dots of the intricate roadmap between them. He sees things from a distance, sees it all, while Aaron is the one who forces them to actually zoom in and take in the landscape. Piece by piece, he forces them to explore.

"So why do it?" he asks, frustrated, but Andrew only picks up the blue can of chicken noodle and waves it in Aaron's face.

"Soup."

_Fine, don't tell me._

He figures this is just Andrew's way of saying he's done with the abnormal sharing for the night, but then he realizes. Soup. Motherfucking soup? Aaron had said—

_"You want to take care of Neil too, right?"_

Son of a bitch. Does Andrew always have to be so cryptic and non-linear?

That's the explanation. It's the obvious one, the one Aaron could already infer. But the confirmation is staggering. Andrew wants to protect Neil; more than that, he _likes_ to. That's the difference. He never would've admitted that before. It doesn't matter how capable Neil is or how appealing it is to see him fight. At the end of the day, they both have some weird _thing_ about it.

Aaron feels nauseated. He’s learned too much. Again.

"Is that really so hard to say, Andrew?" Aaron huffs the next moment though, so he guesses he must be more upset than he thought. "You know, I'm trying here."

He only has so much tolerance for his brother's ways. He can detect them better now; he can see the ins and outs. But sometimes it's tiring. Sometimes he wants to be given things in the same straightforward way he gives them. It's childish, it's selfish, but fucking hell, Aaron isn't perfect. He knows it won't happen, but if they're still being truthful, then Aaron can at least let Andrew know that it's hard sometimes.

It's hard to do this, but it's worth it. So he won't stop. Andrew just has to put up with his bitching every now and again.

At 10 p.m., he's reached his limit.

Andrew beats him to it, throwing up a barrier for Aaron's rage to smash into and fizzle out into nothing. "Are you going to scream your undying love for Mrs. Minyard to me, then?" he asks, and Aaron jumps back. Andrew's anger simmers, barely, but his words are cutting. "I am trying too."

They've both been trying so damn _hard_ the past year. And for what?

Well—for a lot, actually. They've certainly gained more than they've lost.

And like that, Aaron's made Andrew give more than he was maybe willing to tonight. The guilt sits somewhere in his gut, but he can't regret it. Because Andrew still confessed. Andrew still held out his hand, just a little. Like he's been doing for months.

Aaron can't begin to imagine how horrible it must be, for someone like his twin to acknowledge the _effort_ he's putting in. It sounds ridiculous, but Aaron should get it better than anyone right? That it's hard to admit you have faith in something when not much in your life ever lasted before.

Taming his own outburst, Aaron clenches his fists at his sides. Slow, measured. "I _know_ , but—"

"You're suddenly so hung up on listening to Bee, what happened to her affinity for patience?" Andrew says, nearly mocking, but Aaron knows it's not some flippant comment. He means it. He's telling Aaron to back off, and while he respects it most days, he feels too close to a revelation to listen.

This is never easy, and it shouldn't be. Not for them. They always knew that, even before they were fully convinced they could get any farther than silent videogame marathons and nods from across the room. Before they thought they would ever keep in touch past college.

Now, Aaron knows there's no way they won't. They're just...fighting. They're having a typical, moronic squabble. It's not a setback, it's not a threat. Aaron has to repeat that over and over in his head, and it somehow makes snapping back less menacing.

"Asshole," he bites out. "You just want to get out of it. You know it's...it's fine to just say those things, it's—"

"Normal?" Andrew asks, and yup, that's definitely mocking. Aaron's not sure what that means, what's in Andrew's head about the word or Aaron's connection to it, but it doesn't matter.

"Yes," Aaron says with a laugh, disbelieving. He paces to the end of the aisle and back. He knows he's just as thick headed, and that's what hurts the most. Embarrassing. "It's _normal_ to just admit you think your dumb boyfriend is cute, and talk about him because to be _honest_ , it's obvious already how much you want to!"

It's potentially unfair; he never expects normalcy from Andrew. He doesn't want it anymore, apart from getting to act like brothers and argue without the fear of exploding and fucking up everything. Aaron wouldn't dare _ask_ Andrew to be normal in any situation, but this is different. He's not saying it's normal or necessary for society's standards, or because other people do it. He's saying it's fucking normal because Andrew _wants_ it to be. Hell; Aaron's been watching his twin bite his tongue and keep back details from Aaron all night. No shit, Andrew will never share the private feelings—the ones he keeps close, just between himself and Neil. But goddamn, if he wants to tell Aaron about Neil's weird gummy bear Macbeth monologue, he should just go for it.

For a while, Andrew stands there, tight lipped, until finally: "I don't care what's normal." For a brief moment, Aaron thinks he's lost this round, that the point escaped Andrew completely. But his twin is smart. Stubborn, and infuriating too. But smart. With a sigh, Andrew relents, though not without resistance in his voice. "I _care_...that it's us."

Aaron holds his breath, waiting for Andrew to refute it or storm away. But he doesn't, and Aaron can exhale.

Yes, duh. Neil and Andrew...no one will ever mistake them for anything remotely close to normal. They've built their own version of it though, and Aaron only hopes that in time Andrew can expand the definition to include this. That he'll be able to indulge himself however he wants, like Aaron does with Katelyn. That he'll be able to talk about Neil without worrying about how it reveals his feelings. Because Andrew hates sharing Neil, but he wants to trust Aaron enough to offer bits and pieces.

And Aaron wants to do the same. It's been a rough first attempt, but an attempt regardless.

And anyways, Aaron won't tell him tonight, but one day he's really going to have to let his twin know...

Andrew's feelings haven't been well hidden for a long time.

Until then, they have to deal with the awkwardness they created, standing in silence as an old lady walks through the aisle and regards them warily.

They should've saved this for their session. Whoops.

Pathetically, for the sake of doing _something_ , Aaron grabs a thermometer (he needs one of those, right?) and throws it into the basket. Awesome.

In return, since that's the glorious theme of the night, Andrew tosses in some bandaids. The patterned ones. They're pink and cutesy, and make him think of Katelyn, wrapped in her fluffy pink towel after yet another hot shower to clear her sinuses.

He doubts Neil is faring better. They should get back.

At the thought of Katelyn, Aaron smiles. It brings him back to something softer Andrew said, though just as peculiar. He never fails at that.

"Why do you call her that?" Aaron asks, breaking the silence. It's gentler this time, less of a shatter and more of a push. When Andrew blinks, Aaron waves his hand. "Mrs. Minyard."

It gives Aaron a funny feeling in his chest, not necessarily good but also not bad, and he pushes it away to deal with another time.

Andrew's expression gives nothing away. That’s always the case, but even more so this time. It's blank, but he blinks slowly, chewing on his words in the way Aaron hates. Well, he supposes no one can quit cold turkey.

"A feeling," Andrew answers, and doesn't elaborate. He looks down at his own hand for a moment too long, flexing his fingers, then turns away like it's nothing. Aaron doesn't have enough braincells left to figure out what the fuck it's all about.

"Come on, let's go," Andrew says. Aaron feels like after all that, he has to put himself out there at least once. He has to prove to Andrew it's okay. It's okay to do this and trust him with this, so he'll believe in Andrew too.

"I do. Love her, I mean," Aaron says, mumbling the statement petulantly. He's a natural grump. It’s unavoidable. However, when Andrew turns back, he clears his throat. He can't say this without enthusiasm, without conviction. It's just not possible. He thinks of Katelyn's sugary sweet smiles, the croak of her voice after she cheers him on too hard. He thinks of it all—of tears staining his sweater, of being held while shedding his own. He thinks of calloused hands, rife with paper cuts from too many study guides, and the way she whispers each goodbye, because she secretly hates them. All of that and more, too much to contain in the word, but he tries. "I _love_ her so much, it feels like saying it cheapens it somehow. I...don't usually, unless we're alone. But I do."

And it's humiliating to say to this person—his brother, someone who he's always held at an emotional distance. But he can't hope to bridge this gap any other way; he can't hope for more of Andrew's steps forward if he doesn't take his own.

It's a formula they're familiar with now. It's one he hopes they never stop using.

And just when he thinks it's for nothing, Andrew nods. Once, subtly, but he _does_.

"I understand," he offers, and there's a heaviness to the statement Aaron doesn't get. But it's enough. He wants to _tell_ Andrew it's enough, but Andrew meets him halfway. "Neil told me people don't have to say it, if they know it's true. He's infuriating like that, but he's right about people's idiocy."

Aaron has a feeling 'people' is being used as a stand in there, but he doesn't comment. He's well aware he doesn't have to say it, that saying it changes nothing about how he feels. But—

"I guess he's right for once," Aaron comments lazily, and throws Andrew a smug smile. "But I still want to."

He likes to. And that's all there is to it, sometimes.

_So if you one day want to, I'm all ears._

Even if it's not the three words, if it's just some offhand comment about Neil's fighting skills, or where he and Andrew went on a date...he'll listen.

It'll be gross, but he's got plenty more anecdotes to throw back. He despises admitting when Bee is right, but he'll give her credit this time.

They have their people, and they should be able to talk about them.

Andrew rolls his eyes, but stubbornly keeps his gaze fixed forward. "Don't give him that much credit," he mutters, and no, Aaron wouldn't dream of it.

They don't mean to sync up their steps as they walk. It just happens.

\--

" _Oh_ , hang on," Aaron says out of the blue as they stand in line. He's thankful he has some control of his reflexes, as he almost smacked Andrew in the arm. They aren't there yet.

But nevermind _that_. Priorities. Next to them is a toy stand, one of those three tier ones grocery stores always put near the registers because little kids can't resist hounding their parents for one. This one in particular has a good selection of tiny stuffed toys, and Aaron spies his jackpot almost immediately.

It's a spotted, light pink kitten with giant eyes. It's soft, and so absurd looking. Whoever designed it probably tried to think of everything cutesy they could before sewing it onto the plush. In short, it's the kind of sappy, adorable thing Katelyn will love.

Proudly, he picks it up and holds it in front of him like he's a genius. He sort of is.

He's not sure he's ever seen his brother look so disgusted in his life, which is saying quite a lot. Aaron's smugness increases.

God, it's _minuscule_. It fits in his hand perfectly. If he's lucky, Katelyn will squeal even through all the snot.

He's not sure why Andrew decides to humor him. He must be in a better mood than Aaron thought, since he eventually asks: "Why?"

Aaron is all too happy to explain. He holds the kitten up to Andrew's face as if tempting a rabid rottweiler.

"Ah—what? It's _cute_. Katelyn loves stuff like this," he explains, but his next words have a softer edge. It happens against his will, and he blames it on Katelyn entirely. Knowing this ridiculous thing will bring her some joy is more than worth the twelve dollar price tag. "It'll make her feel better. Like a gift, ever heard of one? I've seen Neil's growing wardrobe. He's not buying his own clothes."

Andrew's expression sours further, but he doesn't fight the statement right away. He should know he can't. The clothes are only one example; Aaron's also seen the jewelry and various fox-themed knick knacks Neil has lying around. Idiot.

Instead, Andrew bats the kitten away. “Clothes are required, especially when you live out of one bag your whole life," he comments, but it doesn't expose him any less. From the smug grin on Aaron's face, Andrew must sense it. He points at the kitten harshly. "That, however, is pointless."

Aaron's grin falls, but he's unwilling to give up. Andrew obviously doesn't see the full picture in this case. He holds the kitten close to his chest. While he normally hates these things too, it's been designated as a gift for Katelyn.

Therefore, it's sacred.

"It's adorable. Katelyn will go _nuts_ over it, and I'll take sick kisses over no kisses," Aaron points out, and delights in the moment Andrew tenses. Haha. "You're only hurting yourself."

"Never thought I'd hear that in this context," Andrew mutters, but turns back to the stand with significantly less annoyance.

Aaron is having too much fun.

"I'm just saying, Neil would probably hate this shit on its own..." he adds, and leaves the rest unsaid. The implication is clear. Neil could give a rat's ass about gifts and stuffed toys. But coming from Andrew?

He'd probably burst, like a loser. And whether or not Andrew likes to admit it, it's a weakness. He can't resist evoking that reaction from his jock boyfriend.

Still, he tries. "Neil would never be interested in this," Andrew says, and reaches out to grab one of the toys roughly. It's a little stuffed lamb with snow white wool, and it’s even smaller than the kitten. In Andrew's large, murderous hands, it almost seems to be crying out to Aaron for help.

Andrew stares at it for an impossibly long time, and then it's their turn. Aaron takes the basket from Andrew's stalled hands and tries not to make any wheezing sounds from how heavy it is. Andrew was carrying that shit for an hour?

"Well, how would you know?" Aaron throws over his shoulder as he dumps the contents onto the conveyor belt. He looks at the lamb, at how stupid it looks, and wonders when he himself got so soft. He's not sure what it's a consequence of, but it doesn't feel bad.

No reason to question it.

Andrew turns to him and arches a brow, and Aaron delivers his final punch.

"Neil's probably never had a stuffed animal before," he remarks, doing his best to impersonate Neil's shrug. The ones Allison has tried to force on Neil in the past don’t exactly count. Then, because they share the asshole trait, Aaron adds: "I mean, living out of a bag and all."

And oh, Andrew's glare could send their world as they know it straight to the depths of hell. He squeezes the lamb in a death grip, but notably doesn't let go.

Aaron's spine tingles from Andrew's intense, vengeful stare on the back of his neck as the cashier rings them up, but whatever revenge he gets will be worth it. He figures it can't be too bad when Andrew offers him a ride home, and the silence is more peaceful than anything else.

They walk to the dorms with the stuffed animals pressed under their elbows. If they both end up sick a few days later, neither of them choose to bring up the cause.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I've been on a 'neil with plushies' kick the past few weeks so I had to include that ;) also I realized that out of the 9 fics I've written for this series, like almost half are aaron pov. I can't help it, I love him and it's fun to make him suffer LOL I'm excited to post another fic for this series soon, a little less random ;) 
> 
> thanks again for reading <3


End file.
